


Holidays

by Joules Mer (joulesmer)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Holidays, Illnesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16430942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joulesmer/pseuds/Joules%20Mer
Summary: “Christ, McCoy, you look like you were run over by a shuttle.”The voice was male.  Authoritative.  Leonard took a raspy breath and forced his eyes open to find a man dressed in ‘fleet greys standing at the foot of what must be his hospital bed.If only he could remember how he wound up in the damn thing.





	1. Chapter 1

_________________________________________________________________

“Christ, McCoy, you look like you were run over by a shuttle.”

Leonard cracked his eyelids, vaguely disgusted to find that something gluey seemed to be holding his lashes together. It was too bright and he closed them quickly when a stab of pain shot through his head. 

“You alive?” 

The voice was male. Authoritative. Leonard took a raspy breath and forced his eyes open to find a man dressed in ‘fleet greys standing at the foot of what must be his hospital bed. If only he could remember how he wound up in the damn thing. “Sir?”

The man tipped his head to one side, and in the light from the window the features resolved into Captain Christopher Pike: Commandant of Cadets and Jim’s academic advisor. Jim. Leonard’s heart rate monitor gave a little ping of distress as memory came back: they were going to spend the holidays together in San Francisco, until a last minute spot opened up on a senior survival training. Trying to graduate in three years instead of four meant holidays had to be expendable if there was a chance to get ahead on coursework. Senior survival training: it was infamous. There’d been accidents before. Was Pike here because... 

“Take it easy, son. Everything’s fine.”

“You’re not my father.” And damned if whatever drugs they had him on had disconnected his mouth from his brain.

Pike just huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh and conceded, “Fair enough, but your little bout with Rigellian fever ruined my plans.”

“Plans?” Leonard’s voice sounded raspy and weak to his own ears. Rigellian fever? That explained why he didn’t remember what happened. The first symptoms were often confusion and retrograde amnesia: untreated it could be lethal within four hours of the hemorrhagic fever taking hold.

The captain just ignored him in favor of picking up a padd, eyebrows drawing together as he scrutinized the screen.

“Hey, dammit,” Leonard shifted against the cushions to get a better look and groaned at the vicious ache in his bones, “is that my chart? Those are confidential!”

“Please,” Pike didn’t even look up, “Your sole emergency contact is James Kirk: you forfeit any right to bitch when I have to come find you because you’ve been bleeding out of your eyeballs.”

An involuntary noise of protest escaped him, it seemed like everyone on the whole goddamn campus tended to think the worst of Jim, despite the kid topping just about all his classes.

The older man did look up then, meeting Leonard’s eyes with an assessing gaze, continuing less gruffly, “He’s trying to graduate command track in three years with an honors thesis in tactical and double minors in xenolinguistics and warp physics. Stands to reason he’s not always going to be readily available.”

Mollified slightly, Leonard sank back into the cushions, already wondering when he could be released. And on that note, “What day is it?”

“December twenty-third.” Pike’s expression softened further as he set down the padd and explained, “Academy’s on break; you collapsed on the eighteenth.” 

He’d be shedding the virus for another five days. Under his breath, Leonard grumbled, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

“You don’t remember?”

Remember what? “As it should say in that chart, retrograde amnesia of the fever onset is expected.”

The corner of Pike’s lip twitched, “You were heading off shift at the academy clinic when you spotted the Rigellian in the waiting room. Diagnosed him from thirty feet away and hauled him into a quarantine room by the scruff of his neck before he could infect anyone else. You threw your lab coat over his head and got infected in the scuffle, but there were some immunocompromised patients waiting to be seen: you saved lives, McCoy.”

Oh. Unsure what the appropriate response was to that, he simply waited.

“Want to get out of here?”

“What?” His voice cracked, pitiably.

Pike shrugged, “Like I said, you ruined my plans.”

Still not following at all, Leonard focused on the one thing he did know: “I need to be under quarantine for almost another week.” It was going to be awful: there was nothing more depressing than being hospitalized and alone during the holidays.

“Everyone who was a cadet during the Antaran engagements got the vaccination. Bitch of a hypo: our asses ached for days. If you want to get out of here: I can take you.”

Clearly he should have asked a different question. Eyebrow raising, Leonard asked, “Why?”

“Enterprise has been given a launch date: three weeks after the spring graduation next year. Everyone in that class could be up for assignment to the flagship.”

“Jim.”

Pike nodded, “Including Jim.” Stepping closer to the bed, his voice lowered as he intoned, “Lists are already being drawn up. Senior instructors have their favorites to put forward, lobbying is getting furious. We’ll take _maybe_ five percent of the candidates. Nothing will be finalized until the results are actually in, and as captain I’ll have a lot of discretion, but Jim is still considered a wild-card and I don’t dictate who is picked for medical so we need to get your names out there. I was counting on making some introductions at the winter ball last night.”

He was delirious, it was the only explanation for it. Jim’s advisor turning up in his hospital room and implying they could both be picked for the Enterprise. Mouth suddenly dry, he said, “I have…”

“Aviophobia, I know. But do you really want an Earthside research posting when Kirk is going to the stars?”

And God help him Leonard couldn’t quite manage to disagree. He settled for scowling instead, but it didn’t have the desired effect as if anything Pike looked more satisfied.

“I didn’t think so.” Flipping open a communicator, he patted Leonard’s shoulder and added, “For what it’s worth: I don’t think he realizes how much he talks about you.”

Leonard felt his cheeks pinking and a rushing in his ears drowned out whatever Pike was saying into the device.

An attending appeared, masked, gloved and gowned, and Leonard had a sense of just how dire his stay would be given the lower vaccination rate among younger members of the ‘fleet. Given the circumstances, he did something he’d rarely be willing to do: bite his tongue and comply. The physician, predictably, was a moron. Over-reliant on scanners when a closer look at the tenting of Leonard’s skin would have told him a lot.

Finishing the exam, the physician turned to address Pike instead of Leonard. “He should recover quickly enough. I still wouldn’t recommend…”

Cutting off the doctor, Pike tilted his head towards Leonard and ordered, “Give him his chart.”

Leonard took the proffered padd, reading over the results. He was a little dehydrated, clearly weakened by the illness, but definitely on the mend. He needed rest, bland food, and fluids, if he were honest. Nothing that required a stay in the hospital beyond the quarantine and fact that he was unlikely to even be able to shuffle his way to the bathroom under his own power.

“Well?” Pike was regarding him, arms crossed, and Leonard didn’t want to consider the layers of scrutiny that seemed to be in his gaze.

A glance at the doctor who was still regarding him like some kind of dangerous lab specimen and his mind was made up. “Get me out of here.” That sounded ungrateful, so he appended, “sir.”

“Good man.”

Before Leonard could scowl at the potential patronizing note in that one, the sickening tingle of a transporter took hold and the bright white of the hospital room faded into… He blinked. This was not what he’d expected.

Instead of some private care facility where there’d be more of a personal touch, or his own apartment where he could wallow alone, this was someone’s living room.

Pike seemed to take it in stride: glancing down to make sure Leonard was settled appropriately on the large, L-shaped sofa and moving to adjust the window tint so that the room was bathed in a soft winter sunlight.

Holy shit, Leonard realized, he was in the _captain’s_ living room.

“McCoy?” 

Leonard looked up from where he’d caught sight of some framed photos in an alcove next to the fireplace and found Pike looking down at him with a soft smile. 

The captain placed a bottle of water within easy reach and gently pulled a throw blanket off the back of the sofa and over the other man. “Get some rest. We’ll get you checked out properly later.”

He wanted to ask what the hell that meant, but exhaustion hit him like an undertow. Leonard was asleep before he could start to formulate a reply.


	2. Chapter 2

When Leonard opened his eyes again the room had settled into evening twilight and the house was quiet. A comm was set next to the bottle of water and as he reached for it a slim medical monitoring bracelet caught his eye. Frowning, he pulled his hand back to inspect the device: newer model. He couldn’t remember having it on in the hospital, but hadn’t even felt it being applied. God, the damn fever had wiped him right out.

When attempting to sit up only brought a deep ache in his joints, Leonard settled for adjusting the pillow under his head and peering around the room. There was a faintly masculine scent in the place— like someone had applied cologne in another room. He couldn’t be sure, but it felt like a townhouse rather than one of the towers. There was a bay window across the room, but the view was obstructed by trees that didn’t look to be far away. Craning his neck, it looked like there was a staircase and the suggestion of a vestibule outside the doorway of the living room. The front door?

Turning his attention back to the photos he’d observed when they first arrived, it was hard to make out specific individuals from across the room. One looked like an academy class photo: little blurs of faces amongst a sea of cadet reds. Another, clearly the bridge of a starship. It looked like Pike in the captain’s chair surrounded by his crew. Another looked like a vacation photo: two indistinct figures standing side by side in bright sunlight. The next appeared to be a family of four, one of the boys was probably Pike himself given the older model vehicles visible in the background.

Leonard released a shaky breath. It felt like a home. He hadn’t been in one since he’d left Georgia. The abrupt click and scrape of an antique front door being opened had him looking quickly, almost guiltily, towards the vestibule.

A tall man with thinning blonde hair followed Pike into the front door and paused in surprise. “Christopher?”

“Yes, Phil?”

“Why is there a cadet on our couch?”

_Our_ couch? Leonard made a strangled noise as he just about swallowed his tongue.

“He had Rigellian fever.” When that didn’t seem to be enough, Pike continued, “At _Christmas_.”

“Christ.” _Phil_ rolled his eyes. “Is this meant to be some kind of present?” Leonard nearly had a heart attack at the potential interpretations of that, but the older man ignored the reaction and asked, “What’s your name, kid?”

“McCoy, Le–”

“Leonard McCoy?”

Mouth closing in surprise at being cut off, he nodded.

“Philip Boyce.”

_Commander_ Philip Boyce. CMO on the Yorktown, which had just returned for refits. The man’s battlefield exploits were legendary in medical: he’d sewn an ensign’s leg back on without an autosuture following an engagement with the Klingons, saved a Tetrarch of the Edosians during the winter rebellions with his bare hands, declared two captains unfit for duty and beamed down onto a moon affected by the Deltan plague and come out with a seventy-six percent survival rate, which was unheard of. 

Just Leonard’s luck to meet a ‘fleet legend while wearing medical issue pyjamas that didn’t feel particularly fresh. The doctor must have seen the flash of recognition, but he ignored it in favor of waving a hand at Pike in fond exasperation as he said, “Get me my kit.”

Leonard wouldn’t say he knew Pike, but he was pretty sure the defensive note in the captain’s voice was not commonly heard around the academy as he replied, “They said he was fine.”

“ _They_ are idiots. Get me my kit.”

Moving to sit on the edge of the tack trunk that served as a coffee table, Boyce asked, “How’s the amnesia?”

“Captain Pike said it’s the twenty-third?” Leonard considered, “I think I remember getting ready for my clinic shift on the eighteenth; that would be about eight hours before I was infected.”

Pike returned to set a medkit on the table, then quickly left them to it. 

Running a scanner over Leonard, Boyce followed it up by gently palpating the glands in the younger man’s neck. Eventually, he set the device aside. “Well, it looks like you had quite a bout. How’s the pain?”

“Head’s a three, joints maybe a six.” By the gravel in his voice, Leonard’s throat was probably a four on the pain scale as well.

Nodding, the doctor dialed up a hypo and the instant relief, Jesus wept, Leonard hadn’t realized just how sore he’d been feeling.

“Drink your water.” The bottle was pressed into his hands and he obediently took a sip. “And Leonard?” Boyce waited until he looked up. “If you’re going to be staying with us for Christmas: it’s Chris and Phil.” He gave a quick smile, but strode out of the room without another word, presumably to find Pike.

#######

The night before was only a muzzy memory when Leonard woke up the next morning, still on the sofa. He’d finished the water and listened Boyce’s footsteps move briefly behind the back of the sofa and then up the stairs. Exhaustion had swallowed him again sometime after that: just a dim sense of what was probably a nutritional hypo being pressed into his neck.

Waking further, there was something unspeakably weird about seeing the Commandant of Cadets in a well worn pair of jeans and a faded sweatshirt with big lettering for some place called Furnace Creek. Only adding to the surreal picture was the fact the man was bearing a plate of toast.

Passing the plate to Leonard, Pike moved to sit on the edge of the tack truck that served as a coffee table. “There’s a bed set up for you in the office,” He waved to indicate another room somewhere on the same floor. “It has a bathroom as well. You were out before dinner, though, and Phil said rest was the best thing for you so we left you on the sofa.”

Leonard took a bite and almost groaned his appreciation of bread that wasn’t that cardboard they served in the commissary. It was a pleasant distraction from the fact that, while dressed, the captain didn’t appear to have combed his hair. 

“Phil only got off the Yorktown yesterday so we’ve got errands to run this morning.” Oh, Jesus, they’d been _reuniting_ upstairs last night. No wonder Boyce had given Pike a mildly hard time to find their sofa occupied. Cheeks pinking, Leonard took a large bite of toast to keep his mouth occupied as the captain continued, “We’ll be back at lunchtime, and I’ll help you to the bathroom once you finish your breakfast.”

Leonard swallowed his toast, grimacing as it scraped his still-tender throat. At least he wasn’t likely to need help _in_ the bathroom. That would be one indignity too far. Realizing Pike was waiting for a reply, he said, “Thank you, sir.”

Rolling his eyes good naturedly at the formal address, Pike straightened as he heard footfalls on the stairs. “If you eat all your toast, I’ll bring you a half cup of coffee.” He barely waited for Leonard’s nod before smoothly standing and walking out of view of the sofa.

An hour later and Leonard was alone, propped up on the sofa by a pile of cushions. It reminded him of being home sick from school as a boy: a bottle of water in easy reach, padd on the table, holoscreen lowered from the ceiling, hell, Boyce had even set out a box of crackers. It was a domesticity he hadn’t felt in a long time. The last months with Jocelyn, hell the last year…

Leonard ran his hands over the blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles over his belly. It had been different at the Academy. When he’d joined up it had seemed as good a place as any for having a roof over his head as he completed the slide into deadbeat fatherhood and functional alcoholism. He still felt too old for it: rules and dorms and homework, but in the last year it had slowly turned into something he could catch himself enjoying at times. Mostly his clinic shifts, and weekends with Jim at the Songbird, their preferred dive situated well away from campus.

God, he was still so tired. Closing his eyes, he thought back to two weeks ago, before Jim got a last minute spot on the training mission. Flushed with the end of exams and the upcoming holiday, they’d huddled in a booth, limbs lax from too much bourbon as their shoulders bumped companionably. They’d mumbled together about holiday plans: nothing more than a two-foot tall tree in a bucket in Leonard’s single dorm and ordering in enough food to feed a small army. Jim had held his hand under the table, and Leonard had felt a wave of relief that the gift he’d impulsively picked up for the younger man the week before would be welcome. It was new, this thing they were dancing around after a year of friendship, but the antique book on stargazing he’d stumbled across while shopping for Joanna had been too perfect to resist. 

He wondered what stars Jim was sleeping under right now. 

The front door opening woke him again and he blinked in surprise as the living room doorway filled with… greenery? There was scraping and a shuffling noise, a grunt that might have been pain, and then the Christmas tree rounded the corner and popped into the room. Boyce appeared in the doorway, which could only mean the legs just visible beneath the greenery must belong to the captain. From somewhere in the middle of the branches came a growled, “Another one of the damn ties has popped open, _help_ me, Phil. Dammit!”

It looked like Boyce was only keeping his features schooled with careful effort, as he mildly replied, “You were the one that _had to have_ a tree this big, Chris.”

A hand emerged from the greenery, middle finger extended.

Leonard barked a laugh and the tree shook in response. 

“That had better have been you, McCoy.” Pike shuffled closer to the window before pausing again and appealing, “For chrissakes, Phil, will you get the stand and help me, please?”

Finally taking pity, Boyce quickly picked up the stand that had been sitting next to the door and helped maneuver the tree upright. Brushing needles off his clothing, Pike emerged from behind the tree and surveyed it with a smile. “It looks good.”

“It’s enormous.”

“You weren’t compl—” A quick glance at the couch and whatever Pike had intended to say was bitten off in favor of, “All right, McCoy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Boyce rolled his eyes, picking up the scanner and running it over Leonard. “Getting better. Keep up the rest and fluids, and you should be able to have a proper dinner tomorrow.” He snapped the scanner closed and administered a hypo that had the tight feeling in Leonard’s joints abating, “Come on, Chris, lunch and then we have to get back out there.” Pike couldn’t quite mask a groan, but obediently followed the other man towards the kitchen.

Left to his own devices, Leonard flicked on the holoscreen and set it to a news channel. It didn’t look like he’d missed much: the coverage seemed to be pretty benign. A few updates on treaties being signed; coverage of the ‘fleet ships that had arrived for leave, including a shot of the command staff of the Yorktown disembarking; a failure of the weather grid over the United Kingdom that the media were optimistically calling a ‘white Christmas’ despite the fact it had brought chaos to the transport networks.

Returning footfalls caught his attention and he looked over to find the other two men standing just inside the doorway to the living room. 

“It’s Christmas eve tonight…” Pike trailed off uncomfortably. Boyce shifting beside him seemed to prompt him to continue. “I don’t want to pry, but my understanding is you have a daughter— was everything taken care of before you got sick?”

Deadbeat fatherhood, thy name was Leonard. He’d been doing so well, too. The answer must have shown on his face, as the older men exchanged a loaded glance he couldn’t quite decipher. Licking his lips, he admitted, “I’ve got a comm scheduled with her tomorrow, but I’d meant to go shopping…”

A small green and red striped box appeared in Pike’s hands and he passed it over. Opening the lid, a bluish stone tumbled into Leonard’s hands; he only just managed to catch it with still clumsy fingers. As he watched, the colors swirled and shifted from blue to green, then back again.

“Laurentian dreamstone: it’s supposed to show you visions of their aurora. There was a Disney film earlier this year where the princess…” Pike trailed off at Leonard’s knowing nod. Even on the academy grounds the damned theme song had been present for the last four months.

Boyce cleared his throat, then spoke up, “They’re selling plastic knock-offs, but that’s the real thing. The Yorktown was in the system and the locals gifted them pretty liberally to the senior officers. My niece is getting one too.”

Unexpectedly overcome, Leonard couldn’t quite get his throat to obey his brain.

Seeming to understand, Pike pulled a slightly bent gift tag out of his jacket, along with a stylus, which he set on the table. “Authorization code Alpha-Seven-Nine-One-Nine will get you access to the small packet transport system. They can get it there by this evening.”

Leonard picked up the gift tag and little holographic reindeer pranced across its surface. He’d left his friends in Georgia: colleagues, mostly, at the hospital and a few people he’d staying in touch with from medical school. A professor and chief surgeon he’d considered his mentor, until he’d ignored the man’s advice and thrown himself into trying to cure his father. This… abduction… by the commandant of cadets was an unexpected surprise, and one he was sure could only be due to the man’s role in Jim’s life. A thoughtful gesture like this he didn’t know how to interpret. 

He’d waited too long, as when he looked up he found that both men were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Leonard woke up to the smell of coffee and his comm ringing. Fumbling for the device, he managed to open the channel only to be met with a piercing squeal of, “Daddy!”

What? He glanced at the chrono and confirmed their scheduled call wasn’t for another two hours. Blearily, he managed, “It’s 0700 here, darling.”

“But we were opening presents…” The enthusiasm seemed to drain from her voice and he kicked himself as he woke up enough to realize what had happened. “Sorry, Jo, I was asleep, tell me about your presents.”

That seemed to get the call back on track, “Santa brought me a new bike because I was too tall for my old one, and Grammy Darnell gave me a bell ‘n streamers, and I got a new helmet with flowers on it, and there was chocolate in my stocking, but Daddy is it a _real_ dreamstone?”

Lord, it sounded like they’d let her have syrup on her waffles. “Sure is. One of my…” superiors? “...friends was in the Laurentian system recently and brought it back.”

The resulting shriek had him holding the comm further away from his head. “You’re the best, daddy!”

Something in Leonard’s chest squeezed convulsively, because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been the best at anything that didn’t involve being elbows-deep in viscera. Husky voiced, he replied, “Love you, Jo-bear.”

An adult voice said something indistinct in the background, and she continued more softly, “I’ve got to go, but they said we can comm again later.”

Clay probably, always one for sticking to the terms of any arrangement short of respecting another man’s wedding vows. Keeping his tone warm, he replied, “Sure thing, Jo. Talk in two hours.”

“Bye.”

The channel closed and Leonard settled back into the pillows, replaying the sound of his daughter’s delighted voice. A soft knock stirred him out of his musing, “Yes?”

Pike cracked the door to the office and leaned into the room. “Morning. Phil’s making pancakes. How’s the stomach?”

Leonard considered and realized he actually felt hungry. He’d barely eaten the day before, dozing most of the afternoon and only managing some soup for dinner before going to bed early. “I’m starving.”

“Great,” Pike tossed something onto the foot of the bed that looked like a towel and change of clothing. “Company’s coming at five-thirty.” Laugh lines crinkled around the captain’s eyes as he added, “Merry Christmas.”

The door shut and he thought he heard a cry of, “Keep makin ‘em!” 

Pulling back the quilt, Leonard had to admit that a shower was a good idea. Company, though, Jesus. He didn’t feel fit for company. Plucking at the towel revealed there was, indeed, clothing, and it wasn’t his. Evidently Pike and Boyce hadn’t gone into his apartment while he was asleep, which was a relief. The socks and underwear were standard ‘fleet issue, but where they got the rest of the clothes for him, though… God, they looked brand new. Black trousers that had the appearance of slacks, but were actually closer to sweatpants: comfortable enough, given his still achy joints. A polo shirt and a soft grey sweater that both looked like they’d actually fit his shoulders. Dressy, without being formal. He wondered who was coming.

Sighing, he levered himself out of bed with a wince at how his joints popped. He wished he could blame it on the fold-up bed, but knew it was really the fever. It would be a while before he felt normal again. A shaving kit had been left out on the counter in the attached bathroom and Leonard breathed a sigh of relief at considerate hosts. Inspecting his jawline in the mirror, he was forced to admit a one week beard just made him look distinctly down on his luck. 

Hot water. Leonard moaned aloud and wasn’t embarrassed to admit it. He lingered in the shower, telling himself it was good for his joints to relax naturally. Eventually he emerged, towelling his hair dry and finger-combing it into some semblance of order. Dressing quickly, he looked into the living room and found evidence that some presents had been opened already. 

“In here.”

Leonard turned to find the living room opened to the dining room where a long table appeared to be set for five, beyond that he could hear activity in the kitchen. Entering the room, he was confronted by a scene of what looked like barely controlled chaos. Vegetables were heaped across cutting boards on the counters, a mountain of potatoes filled the sink, and a large roasting pan appeared to have been set out in preparation for a turkey. The stove, however, was still all breakfast: pancakes and bacon waiting to be served.

Pike was sitting at a table, reading something on a padd as a cup of coffee cooled at his elbow. Boyce thrust a plate into Leonard’s hand and motioned him towards the table. It was everything he’d normally bitch at Jim for eating, but as a Christmas morning indulgence he certainly wasn’t going to turn it down. 

“So, Leonard,” Boyce settled into a chair with his own plate of breakfast, “Chris says you’re scheduled to be commissioned in the graduation ceremony next year?”

“Yessir.” God, the pancakes were delicious. Home-cooked food; he’d missed that. The hot plate in his single dorm didn’t count, no matter what Jim claimed could be prepared on it. 

“Do you see yourself as primarily research or front-line care?” 

That was when Leonard realized this might not _entirely_ be about Jim. Pike appeared to be deliberately engrossed in his padd. Swallowing, he chose his words carefully, “I do clinic shifts in the emergency room and have been doing some rotations in cardiothoracics. I was focused on pyrrhoneuritis for a while,” God, he didn’t want to have to explain that, not today, “but my real research area is neurology.”

“Trauma?” 

“In Atlanta.”

Boyce nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “What are you considering for your senior project?”

That was safer territory, “I think I can improve the neural grafting technique I developed during medical school, and adapt it for non-human subjects. In Andorrians, for example, I should be able to get the axonal pathways to take hold if I adapt the signalling chemistry to their regulatory phosphatases.”

“Who would you want for your advisor?”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. “The matching process doesn’t begin until the start of spring semester, but I was thinking of putting down Shil-na, Vinteroll, and T’Peck as my top three. With any luck I’ll get one of them, but neurology can be competitive.”

“Who should he want for his advisor?” Pike was looking at them both, padd forgotten.

Boyce shrugged, chewed the inside of his lip for a moment, before decisively replying, “Hindeman.”

 _Hindeman_. Leonard almost dropped his fork. Admiral Christina Hindeman was a legend in the neurosciences and had long ago stopped supervising cadet projects in favor of running the entire Starfleet Medical Research Institute. Leonard opened his mouth to protest that was a ridiculous suggestion, but Pike was already making a note on his padd as he said, “I’ll see her at the institute chairs meeting next week and mention it then.

Boyce nodded his approval, and Leonard wisely shut his mouth. Looking between the two men, he carefully gave voice to his growing suspicion, “Phil, if you don’t mind my asking, are you shipping back out on the Yorktown after refits?” It took an effort to use the given name, despite sitting at the man’s kitchen table eating breakfast.

Swallowing a bite of pancake, Boyce replied, “Long enough to get a new CMO trained. Need to be back on Earth in time to start gearing up for Enterprise’s launch. I’ll do some consulting on the med bay designs in the meantime. Here,” he reached over and snagged Pike’s padd, waving down a noise of protest in response. Calling up a file, he passed it to Leonard, “Have a look.”

It was schematics for the Enterprise. So far as Leonard knew, these hadn’t been released to the public. Chancing a glance up at Pike, he found the other man watching Boyce with a knowing smile. Ducking his head back to the plans, we couldn’t help giving a small whistle through his teeth that had Boyce chuckle in return. The med bay looked _beautiful_. All state of the art equipment, generous space allocation, and an attached science lab that had him salivating.

Sensing the reaction, Boyce stood and collected the dishes, clapping Leonard on the shoulder as he did so, “I’ll leave you two alone to get acquainted.” Pike snorted as well, standing to pick up his own dishes before moving to put them in the sterilizer.

Leonard flipped through the padd, utterly absorbed, until he realised the others were hard at work. Guiltily, he set the padd down and looked up to where Pike was peeling potatoes and Boyce was doing unspeakable things to the back end of a turkey.

“Can I—”

“Nope.” Pike popped the _p_ as he set down a potato and picked up another one. “Enjoy the reading material, send some merry Christmas messages, comm your daughter, and have a nap so you can stay up late tonight.” He turned from the sink and brandished the peeler like a weapon, “And know if those plans leak I _will_ trace it back to you and they will not find the body.”

Boyce snorted.

That was him told then. Helping himself to a second cup of coffee, Leonard returned to the living room where he could sit on the sofa facing the Christmas tree as he commed Georgia.

#######

Company did, in fact, arrive at five o’clock. Leonard had woken from a nap, ten minutes before his alarm, to voices in the hallway and the thud of the front door. Shit. He’d intended to be up before anyone arrived.

Tugging at the sweater to remove any folds, and smoothing down his hair with his hands, he nervously shuffled into the living room to find a stunningly beautiful Illyrian he recognized as the captain of the Yorktown, and Pike’s former first officer. She looked up and smiled in a way that made his insides twist, holding out a hand as she said something melodic and utterly unpronounceable.

He had no idea what had just happened, but the gesture he could at least try to return. Taking her hand, he gave it a gentle shake and said, “Leonard McCoy, ma’am.”

Her smile widened, “You can call me One.” Leaning forward, conspiratorially, she said, “I don’t think even Chris can say my given name.”

With that, some measure of Leonard’s nerves quieted and he managed a genuine smile in return. Further conversation was forestalled by voices in the kitchen getting louder before Pike, Boyce and another man appeared carrying drinks. 

“Leonard,” Pike smiled, warmly. “I see you’ve met One.” He indicated the Betazoid to his right, “This is Eisled, former first officer on the Sargo and science officer on the Yorktown before that.”

“Now I’m left trying to keep Chris’ hotshot cadet pilots from smearing themselves over the surface of Phobos.”

“Careful, Eis,” Pike nodded towards Leonard, “he’s thick as thieves with Kirk.”

“ _Kirk_ ,” the Betazoid’s forehead crinkled in exaggerated consternation. “That kid would have me prematurely grey if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s actually _good_ at the maneuvers he pulls off.”

Accepting a drink from Boyce, Leonard settled into the sofa and tried not to feel under scrutiny given how the others clearly knew each other well. He recognized Eisled now: not by name, but by reputation as the head of the academy flight squadrons.

Taking a sip of his own drink, Eisled asked, “So are you medical or command?”

“Medical.” Recognizing the stress-induced note of gruffness in his tone, he deliberately lightened it, “But I spend enough time patching up the command track cadets I figure I’m practically an honorary member at this point.”

Boyce snorted, extending a finger towards Chris, “Blame him. He went on a recruiting spree and I kept getting these rambling comms about how Starfleet has lost the instinct to find people ready to leap before looking. You know where that gets you on an away mission?”

“Phil…” The warning note in Pike’s voice was more teasing than serious.

“It gets you an assfull of shooting spines from a Kzinti cactus.”

Eisled burst out laughing, Leonard joining him in surprise as Pike practically wailed, “ _Phil!_ ”

One smiled, smugly, and confirmed, “He couldn’t sit in the chair for a week.”

“I’ll tell Leonard about your first OBGYN rotation,” leaning towards the younger man, Pike stage whispered, “He has a Tellarite named after him. Little Philippa: she has the cutest little beard.”

“Chris…”

“He cried when the mother told him her name. _Cried_.” Chris mimed something resembling profound weeping. 

Hand over his face, Boyce mumbled, “It was challenging birth and an emotional day.”

Something chimed in the kitchen and saved them both from further escalation. Letting himself be shepherded to the table, Leonard sank into the proffered seat and tried not to think too much of the last time he’d been in such a position. From the look Eisled gave him, he wasn’t entirely successful.

Melancholy was forestalled by Boyce carrying out a turkey that was entirely too large for five people, not that anyone was going to complain. God, it all smelled like the holidays: pine trees and turkey and sage and suddenly there was a glass of wine in his hand and conversation kicking off again. It was all so unexpected. 

Leonard McCoy wasn’t good with unexpected; he’d admit that to just about anyone.

He fell asleep on the sofa sometime after 0200. The festivities had moved from the table to the living room sometime after ten, Boyce bearing a bottle of scotch and One patting the other half of the sofa suggestively until Leonard sat down. 

When he woke up in the morning and found himself still fully dressed with a blanket tucked carefully around his shoulders and a spot of what might be drool on the arm of the sofa, he wasn’t even embarrassed. 

Thinking back to the night before, Leonard just remembered sipping scotch and warm conversation and sliding lower into the embrace of the sofa until it all got a bit fuzzy. He’d almost forgotten what easy companionship at this time of year could be like.

A scrape of the front door and a tentative step into the hall caught his attention, followed by a soft whisper of, “Bones?”

Sitting up, ignoring a throb in his head as he did so, Leonard called back, “Jim?”


	4. Chapter 4

Jim came into the front room like a gust of wind, wide-eyed, sweeping down to take Leonard by the shoulders as he babbled, “I got off the planet and had five days worth of comm messages saying you were hospitalized and unconscious, Bones. Then a note that you’d discharged yourself _against medical advice_ , and it was _Rigellian fever_ and I’d need to get vaccinated immediately if I wanted to be able to s—”

Leonard leaned in and pressed his lips against Jim’s, deepening the kiss when the younger man opened his mouth slightly in surprise.

Eventually pulling back, he found Jim looking at him with a slightly dumbstruck expression on his face, one hand coming up to touch his own lips. This was still very new, this slide from friendship to something else, and displays of affection was just one dimension still being carefully navigated.

“Damn, Bones.” Leaning in and pitching his voice more softly, a worried frown on his forehead, Jim asked, “Was it that bad being all alone here for the holidays? I’m sorry, I…”

“No, Jim.” Leonard cut the other man off with a smile, surprising himself as he corrected, “I missed you, but it was good. Really.” Jim still looked doubtful, so Leonard kissed him again. Then again, for good measure.

Eventually pulling back, Leonard took a moment to properly look at the younger man: a trace of regenerated bruising on his forehead and bags under his eyes that told of a lack of sleep. “How was it?”

Jim shrugged, smiling weakly, “Cold. Lonely— we weren’t in pairs this time. I passed, though. First to my pick up point.” Some tension Leonard hadn’t realized he’d been holding released. Of course, they’d known that Jim’s aspirations for the Enterprise meant he was under scrutiny, but the last two days had shown Leonard that the dream was _close_. Closer perhaps than even Jim realized.

“Well done,” Leonard ran his thumb over the thin line of a cut on Jim’s jaw that hadn’t had quite enough time under the dermal regenerator.

A creak on the stairs had them pulling apart to find One stepping into the room wearing… Leonard blinked. Rather form-fitting pyjamas. From the slightly strangled noise next to him, he realized Jim had made the same observation. 

With a smile that, impossibly, made her look even more attractive, she lightly said, “Let me guess: Cadet Kirk?”

“Yes,” Jim’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, “ma’am.”

“Sir is fine too, Kirk.” Cocking her head towards the kitchen, standing as if she may as well be in her dress uniform, she asked, “Coffee, Leonard?”

Oh, fuck, Leonard realized. She was enjoying this. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll make a pot and leave it on the warmer.” She gave a little stretch that had a blonde curl tumble free from the messy knot on top of her head. “We lasted another two hours after you fell asleep and killed another bottle. I don’t think anyone’s going to be making breakfast; help yourself to leftovers if you want them. Eisled’s in the library and I’ve got the guest room upstairs– feel free to go back to bed down here. Phil and Chris won’t be up anytime soon.” With that she quirked a last smile and positively sashayed into the kitchen.

Jim’s eye followed every sway of her hips until she disappeared and he weakly asked, “Bones?”

“Yeah, Jim?”

“What the hell is going on?”

“You heard the captain,” Standing smoothly, he tugged Jim up after him and started towards the office, “let’s go back to bed.”

Jim let himself be led, albeit with a confused glance in the direction One had taken. “But…” 

Lacing their fingers together, Leonard tugged more firmly and practically dragged Jim into the room that had been allocated to him. Shoving the door shut, he pushed Jim ahead and quickly turned him so he could press against the other man. Jim’s arms came up and Leonard relaxed into the embrace, inhaling deeply as the lingering ache in his joints seemed to finally fade away.

“Wait.” Jim’s head whipped to one side, catching sight of a framed holo on the desk. “Is this _Pike’s office?_ ” 

“I’m supposed to be resting.” Leonard shrugged, crowding Jim forward with his body. “Essential to my recovery.”

“Shit, Bones,” Jim gasped in surprise as he found himself pressed backwards onto the bed in his academic advisor’s office, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Rolling his eyes, Leonard leaned down until they bumped noses and whispered, “I’m just full of surprises.”

__________

Three hours later, sated and showered, Leonard relaxed against a stack of cushions and scrolled through the news on Jim’s padd.

“Captain Pike just offered me a turkey sandwich.”

Leonard looked up to find Jim standing just inside the closed office door, looking lost. “What?”

“Captain Pike…”

“Offered you a turkey sandwich.” 

Jim nodded.

Leonard raised an eyebrow, “So?”

Blue eyes utterly bemused, Jim shrugged helplessly.

Looking at the younger man more closely, Leonard’s confusion slowly turned to understanding. Setting the padd aside, he patted the bed next to him and said, “Come here.”

Already barefoot, Jim crawled up to sit cross-legged next to the other man, knees bumping Leonard’s thigh.

“So you went to get water, and…”

Not quite meeting Leonard’s eyes, Jim replied, “Captain Pike came in and started pulling things out of the fridge. And he said he’d seen the initial reports from training and I’d done a good job.” _You did a good job, son_ , was what had actually been said. And Jim had turned to find the captain had bare feet too, and was watching him with that expression he had trouble reading.

“He’s proud of you, Jim.” When the younger man gave a little twitch that might have indicated denial, Leonard placed a hand on Jim’s knee. “He dared you, and you’re living up to it.” 

Looking down at Leonard’s hand, Jim mumbled, “Why does he care?”

“Because he saw something in you...”

“He saw my _father_.”

Lord, this was how it was going to be. Leonard realized this was a reckoning that had been a long time coming. Choosing his words carefully, he rubbed Jim’s knee in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion. “That may have grabbed his attention, but it was _you_ in the bar that night: your test scores he looked up, and you he saw something in… despite those napkins hanging out of your nostrils.” That got a snort, so Leonard continued to press, “And it’s you he’s been keeping tabs on for the last year and a half. Do you think the commandant of cadets is personally the academic advisor for very many of us?”

Grudgingly, Jim shook his head.

“Jim.” Leonard waited until the younger man looked up. “He wants you on the Enterprise.” Moving his hand to tentatively cover Jim’s where it was pressed into the quilt, he added, “He wants _us_ on the Enterprise.”

“Really?”

“I don’t think he rescues other cadets from the hospital either, even at Christmas. Boyce is going to be the CMO and Pike wanted us to get introduced too.” 

“So it’s just…”

Trust Jim to jump to the wrong conclusion. Shaking his head, Leonard interjected, “It’s not just about the ship. He genuinely cares, Jim.”

A moment’s pause as that was digested. “What…” Jim shifted, uncomfortably, “What do I do?”

Leonard smiled at the rare glimpse of uncertainty, “You let him make you a sandwich.” Suppressing a laugh at how Jim’s eyes widened, he continued, “And it will be weird as hell to see him out of uniform, but you’ll sit and chat about survival training and your classes and before you know it you’ll be meeting Phil and One will offer you a coffee.” Pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Jim’s mouth, he pulled back. “Go, while he’s still in the kitchen.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I need a nap.” Which was the truth, however much he thought Jim should talk to Pike alone. Easing himself back down, he caught a worried frown and hastened to add, “I’m fine, just still a bit wiped out. Give me an hour and I’ll be ready to eat too.”

With something more resembling his usual smile, Jim tugged the blanket up and planted a quick kiss on Leonard’s forehead. “I’ll save you a sandwich.” 

The door closed behind Jim and Leonard heard the footsteps pause, then move purposefully down the hall. Pulling the blanket more tightly around his shoulders, he rolled over and considered: the Enterprise. Jesus. He’d never meant to get shipped out into the black after graduation, but Pike was right: he didn’t see himself anywhere but at Jim’s side.

Not just the black, but the federation flagship. As front line and deep space as it got.

With Jim.

And Pike, and Boyce, and others they trusted to bring into their crew.

Closing his eyes, Leonard caught himself smiling as he let the exhaustion take hold. Maybe space wouldn’t be so bad.


End file.
